Everyone has to grow up sometime, and once upon a time Sarah did too.The most logical thing after that was to speak her mind and change the world, if only a little.Fairytales have a way of enspelling. Fair lady, faint heart victory and all that.Oneshot JS

"You can't live
like this, missy." Hoggle said to her one day. Didymus nodded his
agreement. Sarah frowned. The entire conversation seemed rehearsed.
She looked to Ludo but the shaggy beast said nothing, staring happily
out of the kitchen window. It was Thursday. They had tea and honey
cakes.

Sarah put down her
floral teacup (a sure sign that she was hovering in indecision),
which she had purchased in a failed attempt at normality (much to
Karen's delight) on the table, a little too hard, because some of
the chamomile concoction splashed onto the wooden surface. Sarah
ignored this.

"Oh? And how's
that?" She asked irritably.

"Alone." Ludo's
growl startled Sarah. She had thought him to be her only ally.

"I'm not alone! I
have friends! Here and Underground."

Three pairs of eyes
stared blankly at her. Her ire rose

"Oh, really! It's
not my fault, is it? I can't possibly fit in! They're all either
here or there…but I…I am forever in between! I
cannot move either this way or that! What would you have me do, break
the walls of limbo? They are no longer made of reflecting glass! And
the chairs are all nailed to the floor.'

Rumor had it she'd
told him she wanted him, and he'd claimed her as his own. It was
like a brand, but Sarah knew that, as well.

She also knew the
truth, and while neither of them had ever uttered anything of the
sort, there were moments of understanding, of agreement.

When Sarah was
perplexed she did stupid things. But buying an overpriced new handbag
just wouldn't suffice. So she did something that was by far more
idiotic than usual. She went camping. Karen watched in disbelief as
the girl drove off down the street, and shook her head knowing she'd
be back before two days passed, let alone a week.

OOOOO

Sarah danced in the
moonlight, the moon catching in her hair, as she leaped and twirled.

His eyes followed the
nuances and twists of her limbs, his heart beat the rhythm she seemed
to be following.

She was there, just
like he knew she would be, when he awoke suddenly in the middle of
the night. The Dancers. Boulders tall and old, making the girl look
like a marionette. They danced, too, around and around, though she
did not see it. The Dancers had a notion to claim her. What a pity
that shot had already been called.

If an outsider had
been watching, to them the strange fact about the scene wouldn't be
the girl dancing in the night without music, or the man watching from
the shadows. It would be the fact that during the day she had two
left feet and no balance. She twirled and the stones turned with her.

He walked closer and
she did not even glace up, leaping in the air and he felt the stones
wanting to catch her.

He sighed and moved to
take her in his arms. Sarah struggled and protested. Her eyes were
misty.

"What did you do that
for?!"

"Would you have had
me leave you there, to dance until you collapse in death?"

She shuddered, pressing
against him. "No."

OOOOO

Later that night they
sat outside her tent and the king pressed a conjured mug of hot
chocolate into her hands. Sarah shivered under her blanket and
accepted. If she had been herself she would have been touched by the
thoughtfulness of his gesture and his unusually gentle eyes, though
she would never admit it.

His eyes turned wary as
she lifted the cup, and she chose that moment to glace up. Seeing the
look in his eye she felt more of herself returning. The new awareness
was not lost on the King.

A direct offering.

Sarah was inexplicably
reminded of their meeting in the park on that day she had thanked
him. There had been something in the air. Or perhaps in the blood.

Meeting his eyes and
holding, Sarah gave back the same he had gifted her with. Lifting the
cup fully to her lips, Sarah drank the rich, dark liquid. Eyes locked
on the king's. She felt the warmth of the drink all the way to her
stomach, felt the richness of flavor long after the mouthful was
gone. His nostrils flared, though it was barely perceptible. Somehow
she knew he had understood.

A bird flowing out of a
tree noisily broke whatever was happening between them.

Sarah glanced over into
the fire he had conjured along with the drink.

"What were those
things?" Her voice was still shaken.

His expression darkened
and she could see he was considering evading her question.

"Please." The
simple word spoken softly, her eyes declaring trust in his words.

"The Dancers." He
sighed at last. "The Fiddlers, or whatever other ridiculous names
your kind give them. Though the Dancers is perhaps the most
accurate."

Sarah snorted
disbelief. "It cant be! We're not in Ireland or Scotland or
anywhere near the old Celtic sites! They were people turned to stone
by dark magic. They caught new mortals by binding…"

His laugh cut short her
train of thought. She opened her mouth to protest his scorn.

"It is as I have told
you, nonsense!" Jareth informed, "Turned to stone nothing. The
Dancers are, as you might have heard, a gateway. One of several both
of this kind and of others. No more sentient than my labyrinth.
Through magic they 'dance' as you put it, pulsing with power.
Those of magic know better than to linger among them. But mortals
have neither the knowledge nor strength of spirit to withstand their
spell."

Sarah stored this bit
of information for later contemplation. Her hands clutched at the
edger of her tartan blanket, the mug forgotten by her feet, as she
pointed out the flaw in his argument,

"We're not in the
old Celtic lands!"

"No. Did you really
think that the Dancers are bound to one location only? They are a
gateway, moving others and themselves. They are everywhere and
nowhere. Where they are needed or wanted most."

Sarah nodded then.

"Why do you call them
that, 'The Dancers' ? If it's a silly mortal name."

"It is simpler that
way. We do not name them among my people. Names have power, dear
Sarah, names are power."

She ignored the implied
threat. It was such an old game, as far as Sarah was concerned.

Picking up the mug and
blanket she moved around the fire, startling Jareth as she sat next
to him, shivering still. He had expected her to at least be wary this
night of wild magic.

"Then it seems that
you have saved me yet again, even now that I am done playing the
distressed princess."

Wild magic danced
across his skin. In the dark forest under a half-shadowed moon her
hand found his.

OOOOOO

They sat on the new
porch swing, that her dad (who huffed and muttered under his breath,
taking care that Toby wouldn't hear what was said) and Toby (who
giggled and drove his toy car under parts of the frame) had spent
half the previous day trying to put together. Her back snugly against
his chest, his arms around her. Sarah's parents were away for their
anniversary, and her brother was sleeping at a friend's. She
refused to acknowledge what the new closeness between them entailed,
and she wouldn't have dreamt of speaking of it aloud.

She laughed, though she
wasn't sure why. She buried her face in his shirt and laughed. And
she could feel him laughing too.

Jareth reached out a
long leg towards the floor and pushed back. The seat swung back once,
then promptly collapsed in a heap of canopy, pillows, frame, girl and
goblin king.

Jareth promptly began
trying to untangle himself, and opened his mouth to blame Sarah, who
had sworn that the suspect thing was, in fact, safe. He heard a
giggle, and irately lifted the bit of flower-patterned canopy that
covered Sarah's face. He stared at her for a moment, as she turned
red trying not to laugh, then lost it and burst into a manic fit of
giggles. Any intention to berate her was forgotten as he joined in
her mirth.

"Good evening,
Sarah." Said the disapproving voice of Miss Clarence, the
across-the-street neighbor, as she stopped in their driveway to look
over the Williams porch.

Sarah tried to choke
out a pathetic greeting, but failed miserably and collapsed into
further giggles.

Jareth later remarked
that spending time with her was doing nothing for his royal pride and
dignity. Sarah riposted that it was doing nothing for her reputation
as Miss Clarence was the biggest gossip on their street. She tried
very hard to sustain an affronted expression, and fight off the silly
grin at the memory. Jareth was too busy doing the same to notice,
though Sarah would have argued that his grin was far from silly,
classifying it instead somewhere under 'sensual'.

OOOOO

It was the little
touches, and familiar glances that sealed their fate, in the end. One
day she walked carelessly into her bedroom, only to find herself in
his.

Sarah frowned as she
glanced around the elegant chamber to find him seated tensely at a
large, rosewood desk in the corner, his unwavering focus over an
official-looking piece of parchment. With a sigh Sarah moved closer,
still he did not speak and her hands found his tense shoulders. In
silence she began to knead the muscles, at length her hands strayed
into his hair and across his sharp cheekbones.

They did not speak that
night, for words did not seem enough. Their union was of darkness and
light, though none could ever hope to be able to tell which was
which.

OOOOOO

"I would give up
forever…" he began, but Sarah knew better. The Goblin King was
generous and terrible in his generosity, though personally she was of
the opinion that he had an unhealthy affliction for the literal. They
had been friends and lovers long enough for Sarah to know the ins and
outs of their strange relationship. To know him. And maybe even to
know a little of herself.

"Keep it." She
snapped, angry in turn at being put in this position "I…I could
not bear to take more from you than I have taken already." She
spoke, a cruel twist to her lips , not looking at him, choosing
instead to let her gaze travel over the expanse of his kingdom.
Though if she closed her eyes and opened them really quickly, Sarah
could see the view from her own window.

Mistaking her
expression, he continued, "Ah, yes. I have forgotten how you love
to play the selfless heroine."

Sarah notched a smile
his way, over her shoulder, this one edged with steel every bit as
much as the last. Cruelty shone in her eyes. Her hair and teeth
glinted at him ferociously.

"Have you?"

OOOOOO

He put an offer before
her, one he was hard-pressed to ask and she to accept. In his usual
manner he made it sound more like an order. Sarah was in the mood to
take it with a pinch of salt. Rumors travel and her parents were
pressing her about her 'young man', which was a term she found
almost as ridiculous as 'boyfriend'. She knew that what he was
aiming at was her eternity.

They both knew that
their idyllic existence could not continue forever. One way or the
other the world was due for another tilt. They separated, edgy and
grave. No argument could hope to cheer them up. Sarah's friends
were perplexed in the mirror that night. Hoggle still had trouble
accepting Sarah's relationship with the capricious king.

The following day,
Robert could be heard puffing furiously around in the garden. Sarah
went to investigate, only to find Karen giving him commands as to
where he was to dig a hole for her to plant her need peach tree. When
she brightly read the label to Sarah, informing her that they were
said to have a hypnotically sweet taste, the girl felt her lips thin.

"Now, now Sarah, no
need to be such a skeptic, I know they always exaggerate but I'm
sure they will be sweet enough. And even if they're not, the
peaches will fit most delightfully in to the garden! Right, Robert?"

Sarah watched her
father mutter his half-hearted agreement before fleeing into the
house, with every intention to go out for a walk. A fast one.
Accidentally dropping her lip-gloss behind the vanity, she bent to
look for it only to discover her peach-flavored one.

Defiantly, Sarah put it
on.

OOOOO

She would not call on
him. It was a matter of pride. Then suddenly she didn't care
anymore.

Then there was silence.
And music in her head. Light, airy music as Sarah walked down the
street ignoring the mortals rushing this way and that. She nodded a
greeting to an old goblin through a shop window, who was busy moving
the welcome rug to where it would do the most damage.

The creature nodded too
and watched her go with pity. Word gets around.

Determination glinting
in her eyes, Sarah came to a halt by the stream that started in the
park and proceeded into the intricate rose garden Karen had always
preferred to the wild untamed of the park. The paths were neat and
the flower beds tended. Colorful rose bushes swayed in the light
breeze. She considered the Dancers and wished. When she opened her
eyes Sarah was still in the garden, but if she squinted she could see
faint traces of a courtyard instead.

The stream was louder
somehow. The wind warmer. The music, relentless. It was a whisper
and a scream in her mind.

She wondered why she
was there, and why he wasn't. Why she hadn't seen him in a week.
Something inside urged her to choose. She could not be in the middle.
Only she stream was in the middle, joining this world and that. And
she could not be part of the stream.

It wasn't a matter of
where you lived, she decided, it was a matter of where you belonged.
What world was in your heart. And in what was an outrageous coup
d'etat, her heart had been stolen from under her very nose.

So Sarah chose without
a second thought because in reality she had chosen along time ago. A
though crossed her mind. She was late somewhere. Again. She looked
down and remembered. A formal party at the local theatre. Her narrow
off-white silk gown shimmered faintly.

She considered her
position once more.

Sarah nimbly unstrapped
her watch and tossed in into the rushing waters if the river, closing
her eyes to savor the satisfaction the action had left her with.

Then she stepped over,
but gingerly because one had to know where one stood with magic and
she didn't look back because she didn't need to. She would be
back soon enough.

There were people.
Masked, elaborate and wild, spider-webs in their hair, and gorgeous
silks and lace. They stood here and there, flutes of drink clutched
in gloved hands, wrists and fingers delicate. Here and there a
crystal laugh would cut the night. She watched them and realized how
close they all came to snapping the delicate crystal, cutting their
long hands. But their hold never shifted, ever elegant.

"Not lost are you,
pretty lady?" A loud voice roared at her good naturally. Sarah
stopped, watching, as a man in an elegant mask covering the top half
of his face and a drunken grin the lower moved towards her. He
swayed unsteadily on his feet and waved his arms around in an attempt
to keep his balance. It was the eyes that caught her. The intense
gaze belied the effect of the drink, as they watched her steadily and
knowingly.

She paused in thought
for a moment. Then smiled.

"No. No, I'm not
lost at all." Sharp eyes warmed a fraction, and he gave a loud,
jovial laugh.

"Very Good! Very
good! Here, have a drink, Lady."

At
that he thrust a bejeweled goblet at her. Half full with spiced wine,
it still splashed over the side and onto her hand, staining her
sleeve.

Sarah accepted the cup,
surprised at its weight. Suddenly she felt all eyes upon her,
glittering behind the decadent, depraved masks. Uncomfortable. Wary.
Not looking away from the man's flushed face and cool eyes, she
lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip.

Laughing again, hand on
the small of her back, he pushed her along into the crowds. She
nearly stumbled but regained her feet at the last possible second.
They swirled around her, masking her dizzy. Colors and lace. Sharp
teeth and sharper voices. Beautiful and jagged laughter, like broken
blades gleaming in the moonlight.

Hers was the only face
bare of a mask. She could still taste the sweet wine.

The though of fairy
food might have been daunting, once, but she was already as caught
between the two worlds as she could ever be. Perhaps that was what
the strange man had been trying to show her. Or perhaps he was just a
reveler, nothing more. Perhaps so was she.

The crowd swayed around
her, and she with it, like a feather caught in the current of a
stream. She caught sight of Hoggle for a moment, Didymus with him,
chattering about something. The dwarf's eyes fixed on her, and
widened, though she was too far away to determine whether the
expression was one of horror or surprise. Following his friend's
gaze the knight's face took on a similar expression. She fought to
get closer, calling to them. Hoggle shook his head sadly once she was
within hearing range.

"Why, Sarah?" She
head him ask in a low voice.

"Because some things
can't be helped." She whispered wistfully, and just like that her
friends were gone and she was pushed along. Sarah cried their names
again, but it did no more good then trying to fight her way back.

OOOOO

Somewhere the clock
struck thirteen, but Sarah didn't hear it. She walked on, silk hem
trailing on the dusty paths covered with fallen leaves and twigs.
She felt eyes upon her, and whispers, as the masked lot turned to
stare at her who should not have been there, and could be nowhere
else. Closing her eyes, Sarah walked into the hedge maze, swaying
slightly to music only she could hear, the cup in her hand forgotten.

The wind rustled in her
hair and the tiny leaves of the hedge. Her delicate sandals clicked
on the stone path.

She was alone and then
she wasn't.

"Sarah."

"Jareth."

With names came both
power and equality.

They eyed each other,
like the adversaries they haven't been for years. Weighing
measuring, tracing back.

"Its more haunting
than I remember." Sarah offered, gesturing at their surroundings
and the eerie strains of music reaching them even in the depths of
the maze. He accepted what they both knew he would take as a
compliment with a slight inclination of the head. Another thing Sarah
learned, which was now as natural to her as speaking was watching him
for even the slightest hint of how he felt.

A gasp, a giggle, a
rustle of fabric and footsteps sounded not far away. Sarah grinned
momentarily. Jareth's eyes thawed the fraction of an inch.

"It seems that once
again we are where we began." He remarked conversationally with a
slight gesture of the wrist.

"Yes." Sarah
chuckled and turned to face him directly, automatically dropping into
words and stance that she would never forget if she lived a thousand
years, " Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have
fought my way here, to the castle beyond the Goblin city, to take
back the child that you have stolen," a step towards her. He eyed
her, flinty-eyed, "for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom
is as great…" the last two words were whispered, and her eyes
were suddenly beseeching.

"Forgot your words
again, my dear?" His voice dripped irony.

"No."

Then she stood on
tiptoes and looked as far over the hedge maze as her height would
allow. Here, the hedges were low, but still she could barely see over
them.

"It's a nice
kingdom. As far as kingdoms go." Her tone was conversational again.
If she had a cup of tea she'd have offered him some.

"And how far do
they go, pray?" his smile was sharp. She took care not to cut
herself.

She turned and put her
arms around his waist, one pale hand still clutching the goblet, her
face buried in the shoulder of his shirt. Hidden meanings yet again.

"Imagine all you
want, but the point stands. You know very well what I am referring
to."

"Forever?"

He didn't answer so
she pulled back slightly to look at him, suddenly not so sure about
her ability to read him.

Still eyeing him
suspiciously, Sarah went on, "Maybe."

She let go and turned
away.

"Maybe I don't have
much of eternity to give, but, for what it's worth, I lay it on
offer before you."

When she faced him
again, his eyes were narrowed.

"This is not a game,
nor a dream, my dear. You cannot take back your words, and I will not
re-order time."

Head to the side, she
countered, "This is a dream not a game. I will not go back on my
word, this is one moment in time you need never re-order."

"You offer up your
life?"

She laughed, her head
tossed back.

"No more than you
offer yours. I will not give up my family for they are not mine to
give, and I don't even want to begin thinking about explaining why
it is that I'm moving out somewhere without a phone line to live
with a man who is king over Sidhe."

"I would imagine that
such minute details will sort themselves out in time." Sarah
laughed at the jest only she could have caught.

"I imagine they
will."

She took a deep breath
and felt ridiculous. To have come this far…

She lifted the cup
dubiously, following on a strange instinct, and took a sip.

Theoretically she knew
better than to play with fairies. In practice she never could resist.

"I love you."

He looked startled. She
had never seen him wear that expression before. In softened the sharp
edges.

"And I you, though I
dare say you have known of my love for years." He edged around the
words. Words were power.

She shook her head, not
sure if the fairies were still playing by the rules.

His eyes flashed.

Sarah was never very
good where decisive moments were concerned. But then, she didn't
have anything to decide.

Sarah went for the one
tactic sure to throw him- honesty.

"I didn't. Not in
the way that you mean. I was a child then, and some things are just
not of childhood."

"They were said
directly, and your response was the attempted destruction of my
world."

"That…was not my
fault." Sarah declared.

"Then it was not you
who spoke the words?"

She knew the rules
better than she'd originally thought.

"It was. And it
wasn't. I am not quite who I was then. Besides, destruction was
never my intent."

"And what was it,
exactly?"

"Victory." That,
she knew he understood no matter the blood he attempted to draw with
his mere gaze.

He scoffed, "And what
is it that you mean you have done, apart from the wishing away, and I
would add subsequent rescue, of your brother?"

Now she was behind him
before he realized she'd moved. Rising on her toes, she whispered
in his ear, "It's less of what I have done and more what I plan
to do."

And she stepped back
with a self-satisfied grin. He laughed. Loud, rich.

Just as suddenly his
laughter vanished and his lips were upon hers.

"Shall we return to
the revelry?" He asked when their embrace was broken, holding out
his arm.

"Not yet. The
revelers make me edgy. Something in the way they look at me and their
biting, knowing smiles."

They shared a knowing
look of their own.

"I seem to recall you
quoting something in regards to a tour of Faerieland?" Sarah
murmured, eyes glinting with a teasing light. "What's said is
said. I trust you intend to keep your word, dear heart?"

Jareth took her arm
with a low chuckle, and began to lead her deeper into the maze.

Their silence spoke
louder then their words could ever hope to.

Fin

a/n:
The poem, as promised,

To the dowager Lady
Chatterton, Castle Mahon

Thee, lady, I would
lead through fairyland,

(where cold and
doubting reasoners are exiled),

A land of dreams,
with air-built castles piled;

The moonlight
shefros there, in merry and

With the
cluricaunes, should ready stand

To welcome thee-
Imagination's child!

Till on thy ear
would burst so sadly wild

The Banshee's
shriek, who points with wither'd hand.

In the dim twilight
should the phooka come,

Whose dusky form
fades in the sunny light,

That opens clear,
calm lakes upon

Thy sight, where
blessed spirits dwell in endless bloom.

I know thee, Lady-
thou wilt not deride

Such fairy scenes-
then onwards with thy guide…

I though it was a very
fitting poem, given the story, and Sarah and Jareth's
characteristics. I wonder who Lady Chatterton was, to warrant such a
Sarah-esque poem…

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.